Home
is where the heart is,
is where I fall apart, is
a place
that suffocates,
clips my wings
with frustration and love,
is where I cannot be
the me
I am
at this point in life,
have got to be nice
to a role that is token.
The rules never spoken
but we all know
I never got permission
to grow.
I am still complying
by imperfectly lying
and allowing the ghost in me
to embrace lethargy
for the sake of the shell
where my poor parents dwell.
is where the heart is,
is where I fall apart, is
a place
that suffocates,
clips my wings
with frustration and love,
is where I cannot be
the me
I am
at this point in life,
have got to be nice
to a role that is token.
The rules never spoken
but we all know
I never got permission
to grow.
I am still complying
by imperfectly lying
and allowing the ghost in me
to embrace lethargy
for the sake of the shell
where my poor parents dwell.
---------------------
Cajole my soul, oh worthy man,
to touch the world
with my own hand.
to touch the world
with my own hand.
You accept so easily a fate obscure
and give so readily
to one insecure.
and give so readily
to one insecure.
Your truth is soft and will not wreak
havoc on a heart
conditioned to be meek.
havoc on a heart
conditioned to be meek.
But the quiet of such glory does confuse
and the passivity of your stance
I must accuse.
and the passivity of your stance
I must accuse.
The ease with which you are I cannot guarantee
will ever come
to me.
will ever come
to me.
------------------
When the fist of Fate
yanks a friend
yanks a friend
dead ...
stunned
you stand
at the edge of that inscrutable,
ever-denied darkness
and pathetically pit
your puny mind
and bleeding heart
against the massive indifference
of the God parent
you'd presumed
protective.
you stand
at the edge of that inscrutable,
ever-denied darkness
and pathetically pit
your puny mind
and bleeding heart
against the massive indifference
of the God parent
you'd presumed
protective.
----------------
BFF... or maybe not so much?
Grating laughter,
sandpaper raw,
I sit and ponder
what cruel law
makes the laughing at
so easy,
justifies the terrible
teasing.
I like you, girl,
but expect some fighting.
I will not tolerate
remarks so biting.
sandpaper raw,
I sit and ponder
what cruel law
makes the laughing at
so easy,
justifies the terrible
teasing.
I like you, girl,
but expect some fighting.
I will not tolerate
remarks so biting.
-----------------------
MY WAY
Musical chairs
scared
the child in me.
When the music stopped
I'd freeze
as frenetic others
raced
to find a place.
I was not ready yet
to set
so indelicately,
much preferring to run aground
rather than drown
in the excitement and hysteria.
This character anomaly
turned into my destiny.
To meander
became my standard.
To keep anxiety at bay
how much wiser to wade?
Today I wonder wistfully
why God didn't wind my clock
with a little more urgency
as risk and change I've walked around
to side step strife.
Ironically,
while preparing for life
I've missed a considerable bit of it
Even now, with all I see and know,
I continue on
ferociously slow.
scared
the child in me.
When the music stopped
I'd freeze
as frenetic others
raced
to find a place.
I was not ready yet
to set
so indelicately,
much preferring to run aground
rather than drown
in the excitement and hysteria.
This character anomaly
turned into my destiny.
To meander
became my standard.
To keep anxiety at bay
how much wiser to wade?
Today I wonder wistfully
why God didn't wind my clock
with a little more urgency
as risk and change I've walked around
to side step strife.
Ironically,
while preparing for life
I've missed a considerable bit of it
Even now, with all I see and know,
I continue on
ferociously slow.
It's the ferocity that matters, not the speed. Speed can get you into trouble if it gets ahead of you. Your poems always work for me, Libby. I prefer accessibility over vague (despite Dylan's advice to Baez). Not too accessible, but enuf so when I get to the vague I know which way to lean. These are excellent.
Never saw the point of musical chairs, pinning tails on donkeys or roving red or any other color,
Rather jump into a lake, roll down a grassy hill, or walk through the woods.
Fifty years later there are a couple of noisy crows outside my door, and now they've flown away.
Rather jump into a lake, roll down a grassy hill, or walk through the woods.
Fifty years later there are a couple of noisy crows outside my door, and now they've flown away.
I was really bad at both musical chairs and pin the tail on the donkey. It still can't understand why some kids were so good at it.
A lot of poignant passages, Libby! R
This is just a short typed and not proofread note- I've been away trying deal with Mike, and organizing my thought s to try to do some major writing, and a medical thing that's come up, and I come back to hear of the the demise of OS.
Still don't have much time to read and act ontyhis, but anybody out there who is organizing alternate site- ways to stay in touch, please let me know
will try to write more at legth later
Thanks
Bob
Still don't have much time to read and act ontyhis, but anybody out there who is organizing alternate site- ways to stay in touch, please let me know
will try to write more at legth later
Thanks
Bob
Very finely crafted gems depicting "the human heart in conflict with itself." As my favorite poet William Faulkner said in his Nobel Prize speech, "It's the only thing worth writing about in any genre." As your skill develops, your poems are starting to remind me of Pablo Neruda.
Neruda was a great working class poet by the way. The Chilean Communist Party is demanding an investigation into his death - he died exactly 12 days after the CIA overthrew Allende in 1973 - http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/southamerica/chile/8549185/Chile-to-investigate-death-of-poet-Pablo-Neruda.html
chicken maaan!!! interesting feedback. I thank you. :-)
jmac, thanks for commenting. remember red rover? green light? frozen tag? May I? May I take two umbrella steps sideways?
Steven, yes, agree, and particularly musical chairs was a nasty experience for me. Why is everyone made to push and shove and why are the adults encouraging this? hah! I failed to see the humor. what a sober little one I was at times and passive resistant as much as my limited courage could carry me. thanks for commenting!
best, libby
jmac, thanks for commenting. remember red rover? green light? frozen tag? May I? May I take two umbrella steps sideways?
Steven, yes, agree, and particularly musical chairs was a nasty experience for me. Why is everyone made to push and shove and why are the adults encouraging this? hah! I failed to see the humor. what a sober little one I was at times and passive resistant as much as my limited courage could carry me. thanks for commenting!
best, libby
marilyn, thanks for visiting and commenting. a real honor when I get poetry visitors. an extra measure of listening and trusting with mind and heart by compatriots such as you to find the messages and feelings there amidst the word experimentation! best, libby
Yo, Rudy/Bob ... thanks for popping in. Will be in touch! best, libby
Libby, such a beauty in your words, and I was glad to meet you, your feelings, memories and thinkings in your verses..
What an excellent line
''...against the massive indifference
of the God parent
you'd presumed
protective.'''
"Musical chairs
scared
the child in me.""
This is so brilliant and admirable, gongratulations.!!!
What an excellent line
''...against the massive indifference
of the God parent
you'd presumed
protective.'''
"Musical chairs
scared
the child in me.""
This is so brilliant and admirable, gongratulations.!!!
Waiting for your book of poetry to be published, libby. Your words are mellifluous and meaningful at the same time: a rare gift and a talent. I think I like the musical chairs piece the best.
Stuart, thank you so much. strong and inspiring and validating words.
Actually, my poems sometimes presented at os are a mixture of oldies and more recent ones mixed. sometimes revised, sometimes pulled out of a drawer and dusted off and shared, sometimes recent... so my "trending" may be hard to discern.
my haiku are definitely often more recent, since with political blogging that is what I grab modest poetic time for lately and it helps me try to tighten my wordy prose ways! Actually I have gotten reamed at times for my haiku and disheartened by critical traditionalists who found them not zen detached enough, BUT then I found out there is an entirely different category of haiku that is exactly what I write, more about human foibles and with humor called senryu.
Honored to be compared with Neruda. Thank you. Can't wait to follow up on the link!! Appreciate your willingness to dive into my offerings and be so generous about them!!!
best, libby
Actually, my poems sometimes presented at os are a mixture of oldies and more recent ones mixed. sometimes revised, sometimes pulled out of a drawer and dusted off and shared, sometimes recent... so my "trending" may be hard to discern.
my haiku are definitely often more recent, since with political blogging that is what I grab modest poetic time for lately and it helps me try to tighten my wordy prose ways! Actually I have gotten reamed at times for my haiku and disheartened by critical traditionalists who found them not zen detached enough, BUT then I found out there is an entirely different category of haiku that is exactly what I write, more about human foibles and with humor called senryu.
Honored to be compared with Neruda. Thank you. Can't wait to follow up on the link!! Appreciate your willingness to dive into my offerings and be so generous about them!!!
best, libby
Stathi and Erica!!!! How lovely to pull out of my commenting and find you both there with more validation and warmth!!! Appreciate!!! :-) As I was saying to Stuart, some of these have lived in dark drawers and it is lovely to resurrect them, tweak them and put them forward. Celebrate experiences that inspired them and the feelings and messages from then still ring powerfully true in my mind and heart!!! best, libby
ps ... erica, I love "mellifluous and meaningful" ... what an elegant poetic tribute that is to my poetry. I will remember that with pride and appreciation! what a wonderful wordsmith you are! best, libby
Libby, you have a true gift for poetry. Glorious to read your words.
ps stathi.... yes, the one about death was written in the midst of that horrible helplessness when someone very cherished has died ... that feeling of massive betrayal by God that such a beloved could be suddenly removed so. The horror and shock and heart break. thanks for appreciating. best, libby
beautiful, in a way. one can also break away from the self examinations to explore the world in there, inside there...
(oh, and I love vague... whatever that means
helps to cross the eyes, once in a while
and dot the tees)
but
(oh, and I love vague... whatever that means
helps to cross the eyes, once in a while
and dot the tees)
but
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